


Pragmatic

by darkangelmya



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangelmya/pseuds/darkangelmya
Summary: [Written for Peculiarity Zine] Leo's personal skill has always been in finding the most practical way forward, even if it means painting his hands with blood.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Peculiarity: FE Small Writer Zine





	Pragmatic

Crimson painted a battlefield awash with moving bodies. It was neither the first nor the last such sight that Leo would find himself the artist for. Perhaps Nohr was not in an all-out war with Hoshido just yet, but border skirmishes were becoming more common, growing in scale with each passing month. It was only a matter of time; even he could tell as much. Victories now were no less crucial, and this one was slipping away from them.

Well, if the Hoshidans thought they would find an easy target in the southern fortress overseen by Nohr’s youngest prince, they would soon realize they were sorely mistaken. 

“How are you going to turn this one around, milord?” The sound of Niles’ voice punctuated the shuffling hooves and roar of combat.

A quick survey of the battlefield told Leo all he needed to know. The main gate held firm, backed by archers that kept the pegasi at bay, but pressure pushed the edges of their forces inward. Diviners and their beasts sought to tear through the Nohrian soldiers. There were only so many healers to keep the defences standing; if the enemy pressed through the choke points the battle would be lost. Hoshidan soldiers crashed against the wall in concerted waves, leaving little room to divert any of their forces to key points. With no sign of the reported bowman who served as enemy commander, Leo needed another strategy before they crumbled.

“Simple,” Leo declared. “The Hoshidans would have us believe their front unified and unwavering, but there is no chain without a weakened link.” He needed to break the unison of their assault; if he could crumple just one enemy front they stood a chance of regaining the ground they’d lost. Leo pulled his horse in a tight loop and back along the wall towards the eastern gate. The delay in the enemy actions there betrayed them, just enough of a hitch to paint a clear target on their heads. “Pick off the injured first. Let none retreat.” 

“How very underhanded.” Niles' voice followed with the shadows of approval interspersed between the beat of hooves. Sarcasm swept up between them, peering over the wall between the ballistas. “I expect your brother should enjoy that, when he arrives.” 

_ Of course he wouldn’t _ . 

Ballistas fired; the scream of a pegasus crashing to the earth drowned out Leo’s answer. Xander would hardly approve of his strategy and Leo knew as much. His elder sibling’s method had always been the direct approach: to face the enemy head on without need of subterfuge. A suitable demeanour for a future king, Leo supposed. Xander had the power to plow forward, and the responsibility to do so as Nohr’s crown prince. 

Leo was no king; he never would be. So he would remain forever ignorant of that burden, of all it entailed.

For him, victories were not so simple as overwhelming his foe with a blade, a wave to crash over the enemy tide. His power was left wanting; he’d neither the strength of arm nor the charisma with which Xander brought the Nohrian armies to heel. How could he forget it? The whispers followed him at every turn, reminded him of the shadow in which he ever dwelt. He was never strong enough, never good enough to stand out from his elder sibling’s achievements, even with his talents in magecraft. That was fine, then. He’d not escape it, so he might as well embrace it. He would carve his own path through that very shadow to victory, would do what it took to win regardless of what it entailed; if that meant being cursed and hated then so be it. Let that taint hang from his shoulders alone; for his homeland -for his family- Leo would gladly go down in history as a demon.

“Damn these Nohrian scum! Second unit, fall back to cover the-”

The Hoshidan captain hadn’t even finished issuing the order when the spell crashed down, crippling the already limping pair of archers trying to fall back. Damn them all- ! He scanned for the enemy mage while veering around to try and rejoin the advancing spearmen. They were about to fall on the main gate again. If so then Nohrians ought to be focused on intercepting- Magic flashed in his periphery instead and the screams of his soldiers rose from behind him. He turned in time to see more bodies fall to the ground, spilling more of the blood that had already painted their armour. What was-?  _ The Nohrians were aiming for the injured! _

“Bastard! They can’t even fight back!” 

“Yes, that  _ is _ the point.” Leo closed the distance between a string of enemy curses. The snarl twisted on the captain’s face at the sight of him, betrayed as much as anything that his strategy had become the noose about their neck. Brynhildr hummed in anticipation against his fingers, wisps of magic curling about his hand and tracing up his arm. “Were you expecting me to ignore such an obvious target? When I can gain the most ground with minimal losses? You must truly be a fool.” 

“You think logic absolves you? They couldn’t even defend themselves! What you’re doing is no more than murder, you cold-blooded monster!” 

“Call it what you will. This is war, I’ll hardly lose sleep over a few less Hoshidans within our borders.” Black mist coalesced at Leo’s fingertip and fired with the speed of an arrow; the captain scrambled to evade its blow. 

“Damn you-!” The captain winced sharply, his expression tightening in recognition. He’d have to be a fool not to know who he was facing. So… the younger Nohrian prince was every bit as ruthless as the rumours said. His shoulder hit the ground sharply; a second attack looking to make a pincushion of him. 

“The better question is what you think you can accomplish, injured that way.” Amusement danced at Leo’s lips, his gaze flicking towards the blood that streamed down the captain’s arm. “I wager you can barely lift your sword like that. Yet you wonder why you and your fellows make a good target?”

“Coward! You and your twisted pragmatism can hang!” 

“Milord, I do think he’s speaking poorly of your command.” Niles pulled his mount up to Leo’s side. “Shall I carve out his tongue next?” 

“Let him keep it. I could care less what he says. Soon it won’t much matter anyways.”

Yes, that was the way of things. The victory itself was all that truly mattered in the end. The means and method meant little; ideals didn’t stay a blade or stem the tides of armies. 

How long had it been since he’d learned that truth? It was long before these muddy fields, long before he’d first donned armour and a tome and been sent to slaughter Nohr’s enemies. Distant memories surfaced of Krakenburg’s halls, a game played by concubines; he’d been but one pawn of many in their clamour for power. He’d learned. Each time a trusted guard would turn against him, each time he found a half sibling on the opposite end of a blade, each time he spilled another body on the stone floors of the castle and trembled with bloodstained hands: he’d learned. That single ice-forged reality carved itself into him.

Take advantage of their weakness for they’d not ignore yours. Kill them while you could, or next time it would be your life that was taken. 

Honour? Mercy? That was how you died in Nohr. 

The miserable captain was only one more body to the pile. 

The enemy ranks began to falter. Their carefully kept formation had let chaos slip in through the steadily tearing seams. To press the assault? To cover those retreating? The division cracked them open, a hammer to stone set to break them apart. Leo was more than prepared to push that along. 

“What do you intend to do when you run out of injured soldiers to pick off?” Niles inquired from his side. 

“I do believe that’s why I brought you along.” 

Niles’ smirk widened and he tested the draw of his bow. The string made a pleasant hum and he twirled an arrow between his fingers. “You do like to keep things interesting, milord. Though I do wonder, will you run out first, or can my bow draw blood faster? Care to find out?” 

Leo’s gaze cast sidelong, a flicker of amusement at the challenge. 

“Very well, but I hope you don’t intend to win.” 

The surest path to victory, that was what he would walk, no matter how many bodies he needed to step over along the way, no matter what anyone said of him. It was the only logical way forward. Leo’s lips curled at the edges.

“You challenged a cold-blooded monster, after all.”


End file.
